


Found Family

by mindlessbabbling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguments, Bittersweet Ending, First War Battle, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Post Battle, Unresolved Tension, beginning of the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindlessbabbling/pseuds/mindlessbabbling
Summary: Screams.Flashes of light and the faint blowing of air. Shouts of pain, the names of injured, calls for medics, please god, medics. Whipping fire, licking at the hairs on arms and great lashings of water raining down in a desperate attempt to control the blaze.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Found Family

**Author's Note:**

> ... I haven't posted a fic in a very long time (and never to ao3), is it weird to be nervous? Due to the current circumstances(tm) I have had a lot of time to finish my half thoughts and wips. So, here's this spew of thought, aha!  
> Enjoy! :)

Screams.

Flashes of light and the faint blowing of air. Shouts of pain, the names of injured, calls for medics, please god, medics. Whipping fire, licking at the hairs on arms and great lashings of water raining down in a desperate attempt to control the blaze. 

From the centre, it felt like the whole room was spinning, eyes focused on whoever sent the last spell his way. Curses, counters, hexes and jinxes, every single Latin phrase he’d ever been taught and some which they’d discovered on the way.

The smell was one he was sure he’d never forget. Burning flesh mixed with the potent fear pheromones that his extra ability allowed him to pick up. Great green flashes slapped across the faces of his team, broken only by a stroke of blue or red as they fought back just as hard, creating a macabre sky in the eyes of the young wizards turned army he now stood at the forefront of. 

Across the break, where no man may tread for fear of getting in the crossfire, faces of a family past smile back. Dark eyes and hair and the familiar pattern of birthmarks and freckles that had plagued his childhood now taunting him.

This is what you wanted. 

This is what you chose. 

Feral feelings of hatred and myriad of malicious memories flitted across his sight as he jabs forward once more, every ounce of feeling causing his attack to practically explode out of the end of his wand. Sending the cackling formation of his mother’s lips on a foreign face flying through the air, smacking the wall with a satisfying crack before slumping down to the floor. 

At his side, found family in the messy black hair and tanned skin of the boy who had accepted his past and dedicated their present to each other, let out a great force which knocked two of their opponents down in one sweep. 

“Nice one, James,” he cried, code names and hiding forgotten in a moment of brotherly pride. The man beside him let out a laugh and they pushed forward together, forcing the opposition to retreat was the focus. 

Pain was coursing through his body, mixing with the adrenaline which had been trained into a fight response through rigorous hours of andragogy and many a near miss with the older Order members. There was no time to address the stream of red that was blurring his vision in his right eye, or the burning in his side from the fire that had gotten too close. His knuckles were bruised and cut to pieces from taking too many a near hit casting a late protection and his feet throbbed. 

A sudden wind gathered the accumulated debris surrounding the team, casting them into the air and pushing them at the other side at breakneck speed. If there was a call for retreat he did not hear it. 

Black smoke replaced the faces of his rivals, spinning and forming clouds of smog before retreating into the velvet sky.  
The screams did not cease. 

Now was the real terror, not the fighting or the fear of being hit. The cries for the wounded and realisation that your partner had not taken a simple hex. The blank eyed stares of abject horror that did not leave the limp bodies of those you had been at school with, those who had trained and congratulated your accomplishments, those who had spent quiet nights of love together in the hopes that one day they may begin a family. 

The brothers took each other in, though not related by blood it was easy to recognise where their aches were stemming from after years of sharing quarters and homes. A quiet agreement that they were not priority as of yet and together set about aiding their allies however they could, reminders of childminded mornings and chocolate shared while waiting with a wounded, tired boy for the matron to arrive and correctly tend his wounds. 

Finally, the grotesque quiet of post-fight settled over the open space and he took in their battle ground. Expanses of forest were laid out before him, trees that seemingly expected to find their home in the stars above looming with their voiceless energy disturbed by the few who had been there just before. The under growth that would usually lay below foot was charred and smoking as a few of the mages led a small wave across it, quenching the last of the flame. 

All around scores of nettles waved patiently at each other from across the clearing. 

After helping to get those who could not move themselves onto beds for transportation and supporting the clean up of those left over who would never move again. He found himself sat on the edge of a white medical bed, his torso stripped bare as the healer did her best to revive the burned flesh to allow for some form of treatment. The stream of blood from somewhere in his hair had been subdued and now was drying in a sticky annoyance on his eyelashes.

Across the way, he watched as his partner’s wrist was wrapped in gauze and bandage, the tip of a wand prodding into his throat, ribs, hips and muttered healing charms resetting anything that had been knocked out of place. He dared look at the face. 

Sometimes they managed to pretend, to overpower the urge to relive memory, to see the faces they had just hours before talked with rather than the glazed emptiness they had just loaded away. He knew this was not what was flashing behind his brother’s eyes now. Knew it was instead the unsettling realisation that it easily could have been him, that he could have been the one silently placed into the cold car, a name on a card sent to widow and unborn child he would leave behind.

The feeling tugged in his stomach, the wish to give in and allow himself to feel again, to allow himself to cry for those he had lost but he ignored it valiantly. Faintly from the hallway outside he could hear arguing, which quickly grew not so faint until the doors to the healing room flew open with a force that could only have been produced from a wand.  
“Mr Lupin, I have to insist that you wait in your own room.” The young healer’s voice was pleading as he followed a pale and limping man, a mass of bandage affixed around his bare torso and bicep into the hall. He watched as the wand in the new guest’s hand came up to point behind him at the healer, silencing his voice as he continued forward.

He heard a quiet, strained chuckle and realised that it had in fact been his voice which had made the pitiful sound. The clearly ill man stopped directly in front of him and began his appraisal of the wounds. The healer which had been attending his side, glanced at the other man and sighed a gentle warning that if he must stay, she at least will ask that he sit lest his knee never heal correctly. 

“How many?” His voice was rough, as though something had ripped up the inside of his throat and briefly he felt his mind wonder if his voice would return to how his memory seemed to remember or if this too he now must adapt to. 

“Enough.” Came his bitter reply. A short nod and then he watched as the man took his seat beside the end of the bed, eyes fixed on whatever the healer was now doing to the top of his head. He felt the distinct pulling of a stitching charm and the pounding of what he had no doubt would become an unwavering headache given due course.  
“Thank you,” he heard James whisper to his healer as he made a little jump off the end of his bed and crossed the space to join his friends. Mute words were passed between them, they would not speak until they were alone and he allowed himself to close his eyes for the remainder of his treatment. 

When eventually they were left and a silencing charm had been placed on the curtains which now encased the three, all the words that had been waiting to be said spilled from their mouths. 

“Sirius that was bloody reckless what you did,” James said, there was malice in his formation but it could not fill his voice, “If they trace my name, if they find the Order headquarters, or Lily…” His words faded at the thought. Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and wished he had mentioned the pulse he could hear in his ear when the nice healer witch had asked if there was anything else.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know that bloody well enough,” James bit back, but a small smile formed on his face, “we did it again.” They shared the moment and soon the two of them were laughing quietly at the inexplicable way they had once again managed to find their way into one of the most ridiculous fights when everything else was going on. With a hand placed on his shoulder the reassurance that, despite his actions, he was once again forgiven his mistakes eased his mind. They discussed lightly technique and filled the third party in on the events. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Remus’ new voice was still unsettling, and his own hand came to rest on his throat as he spoke, “has anyone heard from Peter?”

Both James and Sirius shook their head, the final member of their usual party had been sent on some secret mission last week to infiltrate the lower ranks and each of the three of them was worried for their friend. Remus nodded, rolling his head to lean on the hand of his unbandaged side. The two men looked at him and a false smile crossed his face. 

“I’ve been worse, you know.” The tiredness that seeped from his voice cut through Sirius’ body like a fresh wound and he had to wrap an arm around him to be sure that the two halves would not fall away from each other. 

“I’ll kill Dumbledore for not letting us be with you,” he spat out. Since leaving their dorms for the final time, his liking of the man had done nothing but deteriorate as he dictated how they must now live their lives outside of the school grounds, Sirius openly believed it was their choice what they did now. Remus had argued that Dumbledore knew what he was doing and that Sirius was blinded by his own wants. 

They had argued long and hard that night. About circumstances, about the fact they were being forced to live apart, about whether Remus really still loved him. He had kicked Sirius out after that. Had told him that they would not speak again until Sirius had truly considered what he had just implied, he had seen the tears in his lover’s eyes, the pain that laced the voice, usually so calm and stable. He had apologised the very next day but the doubt and the rift had been formed and they were yet to be fully past it. 

“Sirius.” James warned, ignoring how Remus’ body shook with a hollow laugh, how his hands shook as he pushed himself to standing, towering over the both of them where they sat. 

“Maybe you should,” Remus muttered, taking a seat on the bed next to Sirius and laying back with a pained grunt. “I’m sick of this. Moony misses the pack, misses his mate. He’s too strong for me now, there’s so much dark magic around that I’m starting to lose that last bit of control” The quiet voice swirled in Sirius’ head and words of caution said in private came back to him against his will. 

Mentions of how easy it was to turn werewolves to Voldemort because it was in their nature to bow to forces of great tethering power, how it could only be expected for a werewolf to slip up as their instincts blur together and they become less man despite the waning moon. Even Peter had begun to feel cautious around the man they had grown up with and he had politely declined Sirius’ offer for a night cap at one of their flats claiming he didn’t want to be there while someone who wasn’t themself had free range to their necks. 

At first he had wanted to get back at Peter for that but now his traitorous brain wondered if the whispers were right. 

He lay back on the bed beside Remus, who had closed his eyes, breath evening out into some form of sleep. He heard the curtain pulling back and the muffled female voice of Lily as she cried into James’ shoulder and they moved off to his own bed.

His eyes wandered over his lover’s too aged face, thick lines of old scars from his ear down his neck, the one that pulled the corner of his lip down, just slightly. The smattering of freckles that spilled over his nose and blanched cheeks, and light eyelashes that dusted just over them. 

No, he thought as sleep was quickly over taking his mind, Remus was not a werewolf. He was human as Sirius himself and he would never let his mind forget that, he promised, placing a gentle kiss to Remus’ forehead and pulling them together while they still could before having to once again hide their affections. 

For now, he slept, his lover in his arms, his family across the way and his friend off fighting for the greater good.

For now, he allowed himself to feel.


End file.
